


Coin for Cake

by inkedauthority



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Endgame Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-04 10:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15839235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkedauthority/pseuds/inkedauthority
Summary: When the bandit Emma Swan tumbles through an accidental portal, she finds herself in need of food and shelter. Enter Regina Mills, a pastry chef with a failing family business, and a best friend who tries everything to get her laid. A coincidental meeting forces these two together, and when Emma offers Regina gold coins in exchange to help her navigate this new world, Regina, in debt, accepts without thought for the consequences this tentative relationship might bring.Written for Swan Queen Supernova iii, Protostar Challenge fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [achromacat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/achromacat/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dragons, Swords, and Cakes [Art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15746118) by [achromacat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/achromacat/pseuds/achromacat). 



> NB* Henry is written as Regina's younger brother in this for the purpose of this story.
> 
> This is my final contribution to swan queen supernova this year, and BOiii what a ride it has been. Thank you, thank you, thank you to the supernova mods for being so organised, and getting this event together to celebrate every version of the two ladies we love.
> 
> A big shout out to Clara, whose work inspired what I thought was going to be a short fic but ended up being this monster. I hope I did your amazing art justice.
> 
> To everyone reading this, thank you for clicking on this story and giving it your time and love, I hope you have a spectacular day <3

 

> **i. Ruby.**

 

Ruby has been working at the _Mills’ Bakery_ since the time she was conceived. Her mother had been one of the best pastry chefs in town, and Anita had fallen madly in love with the quaint bakery that brought a sense of home with the aroma and ambience of the place. Mills’ Bakery became a safe haven for everyone who worked there, Xavier Mills priding himself on product that sold out faster than it could be made, and his five sons who brought in families of their own to grow the business exponentially.

 

It was there that Ruby met Regina, the youngest of the cousins with a lisp that was brought on by the cut above her lip. _A ho’the_ , Regina had explained when Ruby had curiously asked after it, a horse had kicked her in the mouth. Ruby had laughed so hard that Regina had begun to cry, but after Anita had helped Ruby bake a special apple turnover for the girl, they had been the best of friends ever since.

 

It was also why Anita loyally stayed by Henry Mills’ side as his father handed the business over to him. He was the youngest of the five brothers, and his wife, Cora, as Xavier often announced, was the brain behind the entire operation. She would make it bloom above anything it had ever been before— and it did for a while, until the older brothers left and started their own businesses in anger, selling the same deserts for half the price, and making a name for themselves outside the Mills’ brand. Xavier Mills had refused to move away from their traditional recipes, and the Mills’ Bakery that once stood tall and proud seemed to fall to ashes.

 

Now, after a year of a grand re-opening, Ruby wonders if perhaps it would have been better if she stayed in Boston and pursued a career in the line of her expertise. Police work couldn’t be all that bad from the constant drilling she gets from Regina on a daily basis, right?

 

“Ruby!” Regina exclaims from the backroom, and Ruby smiles at her best friend of two decades and raises her hands in surrender. Just because she used to open the bakery at the crack of dawn when she was still in high school, doesn’t mean she has to do it now when she’s in the prime of her young adult life.

 

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

 

“And hungover,” Regina deadpans, retying the white apron behind her back. It’s only Thursday and Ruby has the excuse of _student night_ on her tongue, but she hasn’t been a student for a good year and a half now, and so stores that one away for when she decides to pursue a postgraduate qualification.

 

“You should have been there last night. Robin was asking after you.” Ruby wiggles her eyebrows as she gets behind the counter, setting up for the day with precision learned from too many hours in the space of a richly flavoured environment.

 

“One bad mistake and that fool thinks we have a chance.” Regina’s scoff is enough for Ruby to know that Robin _doesn’t_ stand a chance—unless there’s more tequila than blood in Regina’s system and she’s horny enough to rut against a light pole.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ruby dismisses, wiping down the counters and switching on the lights Regina hasn’t gotten to yet. She takes her time to slide the trays of apple turnovers into the display cabinet, all of them piping hot. “What time did you get here?” Ruby asks casually, because Regina only makes apple turnovers when she’s upset—they haven’t sold the traditional recipes since Uncle Samuel had put them all up for auction in an effort to bring his brothers down.

 

“I haven’t left,” Regina says nonchalantly, and Ruby peeks her head into the backroom where three tiers of that ridiculous wedding cake already sits decorated. “I’m having trouble sending this out of our bakery—it’s the most hideous thing I’ve had to make since first year of culinary school.”

 

“Or you mean since someone tried to challenge you to make a soufflé and you made chocolate flatbread instead?” Regina glares at her, and she laughs as Regina tries to concentrate on piping the fuchsia icing that burns against her eyelids.

 

“I’m going to need more colouring in a minute.”

 

“We’ve run out already?” Ruby whines, picking up the tray of cupcakes and taking them to the empty decorating station where she pipes on blue and pink icing, adding a bit of chocolate sprinkle for poor mothers and fathers who have to face puppydog eyes from their kids when they bring them in.

 

“Didn’t have much to begin with,” Regina answers distractedly, moving behind the cake where Ruby’s view of her is obstructed.

 

“Anything else you need?” Because she might as well make a singular trip to the competition for these things than show her face there more than once. The sun isn’t even fully out yet, no other stores besides the rival bakeries open, and although Regina may have a good relationship with her cousin Marian, Ruby would rather avoid any sabotage that might happen to this cake they really need to get done before 10am.

 

Regina steps out from behind the cake, eyes searching the workbench in front of her where there are two dozen fuchsia roses already made and waiting, a stencil she’ll have to apply after the piping is done, and the obscenely large bride & groom statue she hopes will not topple the cake over. “I’ve got everything.”

 

When Ruby huffs and leaves, flipping Regina the bird at the smug smirk on her friend’s face, she doesn’t see the stranger lurking in the corner, or the out of place horse that snickers in the light of the rising sun.

 

 

> **ii. Emma.**

 

There isn’t a name under the sun that Emma hasn’t been called. She’s been vagrant, thief, orphan, and everything in between— but today, with a bit of luck and a change in the game, Emma is _rich_.

 

She’s got a marvellous horse that might have a bit of an attitude problem, three bags of gold, and a gleaming sword that fits perfectly against her side. She thinks it was fate when after waiting by the royal road for months, trying to steal little pieces of whatever was left behind for food, a large tree was cut down and had blocked the path of none other than the queen’s carriage. A bandit had come in, taken a pouch that looked like it might house a few jewels, and then left with everyone chasing after them to leave the carriage empty and safe for Emma to loot.

 

Hidden in the pockets of the carriage had been enough gold to live a comfortable life, and a small pouch carrying two sparkling beans she pushed in her belt just in case. She wasn’t going to be stupid like the bandit and run on foot, not when she could get a pretty price for a pretty horse that was good enough to pull the queen’s carriage.

 

Emma had thought the move smart, had thought herself to be clever when she pushed the horse into a gallop toward the nearest inn, but what she hadn’t seen was what the queen had gotten into her carriage for in the first place.

 

A shadow-like creature surged ahead at the only movement it could see, and Emma had pushed the horse to gallop as fast as it could, her heart pounding in her ears and her breathing uneven as the sparkling beans jumped inside the pouch slowly slipping from her belt. Good fortune had truly been on her side then, because the trained horse had jumped over a log, and the pouch had dislodged from her belt, Emma only managing to catch onto one as the other burst into the air with a swirling vortex of gold illuminating a new pathway. _Somewhere safe_ , she had thought, _please take me somewhere safe._

 

Now, shrouded in darkness and the portal closing behind her, Emma swallows back bile and pats the horse’s side in thanks. The bean that grows hot in her hand is promptly shoved back into the little pouch, hidden out of sight where it can’t be used again unless during a dire situation.

 

“We got lucky, eh?” she says, and the horse flicks its mane in Emma’s face before trotting out into the strange land illuminated by the rising sun— and the first thing Emma misses, is the image of the shadowy creature that creeps forward, its talon-like fingernails reaching out for Emma through the small space still closing in the portal as she runs after her stolen horse.

 

Emma is hungry, tired, and too overwhelmed by things that look familiar but not familiar at all. There are tall buildings that make her neck ache when she looks up to stare at them, and the floor is covered in black tar that’s smoothed down with near perfection. She’s almost happy when there’s a hole in the ground that shows a bit of mud. The horse keeps up with her pace, and Emma makes sure to hold the reigns tightly as she moves them along in the shadows, trying to find a place that might help her find out where she is—only everything looks dark and unwelcoming, everything but that little shop like that looks like something from _home_.

 

“Hey!” she tells the horse, pointing excitedly at the little hovel, the second thing Emma missing is the woman who ambles out of it with a twisted expression, “think we can get something to eat there?” The horse blows air in her face and snickers at her disgusted expression, but Emma is already feeling kind of faint, and for once she has enough money to pay for a meal. “Right,” she says this time, a little firmly, “we’re going to get something to eat there.” When she tugs on the reigns of her horse, it surprisingly doesn’t disobey her, and trots elegantly to the side of the bakery with enough class to let everyone know it’s been pulling the queen’s carriage.

 

When Emma jams her sword into the window of the bakery, pushing up until it gives way, the metal clattering to the ground as she climbs in, Emma doesn’t very much think about the gold coins saddled on her horse. Once a bandit, always a bandit— no matter how rich she might be now.

 

> **iii. Regina.**

 

Regina isn’t a businesswoman. She doesn’t have the tact that her mother had tried to instil into her before she died, but she is a good pastry chef, and she has the degree to prove it. Still, the competition between five brothers have effectively ruined the Mills’ Bakery, splitting their client base into five pieces of _too little_. Even now, although she’s close enough to Marian to have offered her a joint partnership in one establishment, her cousin is still afraid of her father and what such wrath he might reign down upon them should they try to be a family again.

 

Last month’s rent is still due on the bakery, and she’s throwing away too much of product after spending so much making them in the first place. That’s why this large, hideous cake is so important. She can’t screw this up, not when the earnings from this will at least pull her out of debt for the month until she has to scout for work again.

 

Regina hears a sound from the main room, and grunts as she empties the last bit of icing onto the cake. She’s going to need more, and Ruby is right on time. “I hope you got the right colour, because if this cake looks two toned we’re in for big trouble, and by trouble I mean I’m going to k—” The shop is empty, and Regina’s eyes narrow as she walks up to the front door to check if she’s heard wrong. Straightening the sign that hangs askew, Regina fixes it so that it still says _closed_ , the blinds over the door are pulled down to hide the glare of the rising sun.

 

Her ears perk up at a sound again, only it seems to be coming from further inside the shop, and Regina is sure there isn’t anyone there. Pulling her apron down so that it sits snugly against her figure, Regina adjusts the roll of her sleeves as she walks toward the backroom, a dishtowel snagged from behind the counter to wipe her hands on.

 

The scream that comes from her lips, one piercing and high pitched, isn’t so much because there’s an intruder in her bakery, or a horse whose head only manages to fit through the small window that’s been stuck for years but somehow now open—no, it’s because the cake she’s been working on the entire night, the one meant to bring in money to pay the rent, _that_ specifically ridiculous cake is sitting on her workbench with half of it missing, a blonde woman and a horse stuffing their faces with it.

 

“ _My cake!_ ” Regina exclaims, shaking with rage that seems to vibrate her entire body, her face becoming red and the vein in the middle of her forehead bulging with emotion. There isn’t anything she can do or say that might make sense in this moment, so she stands stock still, her eyes glaring holes into the woman who chews slowly as if her table manners is the thing that irks Regina so.

 

“Sorry?” the woman says, and Regina’s mouth opens and closes, tears springing to her eyes before she has the good sense to do something violent. “I’ll pay for it, I swear!”

 

It’s then that Regina loses all sense of calm, her fingers balling into fists at her side as she rounds on the woman with all the fineness of an outraged bear. She doesn’t take in the woman’s strange appearance, or the clothing that looks like she’s going to comic con—she probably is, and it’s what makes Regina madder as she leans in dangerously close, close enough to get the stench of an unwashed body and discard any theory of wealth this vagrant might have.

 

“You have no idea what that cake cost! What it took for me to make it, how much time and effort only for a no-good, window breaking thief to come in and eat it with her bare hands!” It’s probably below the belt, hitting where it hurts, but Regina’s chest is heaving and she hasn’t got the capacity to think about calling the police when she’s faced with this much emotion after years of locking it all away. Her voice might’ve broken during her half-assed rant, and her heaving chest isn’t so much out of anger as it is due to helplessness.

 

What is she going to do now?

 

“Just get out,” she says, her voice gravely, “and take the rest of that cake with you.” Because what use is it now? Swiping beneath her eyes and turning to walk away, Regina is stopped by a quiet voice.

 

“You made this? All on your own?” The anger she’s been trying to expel comes back again, and when Regina turns with red eyes and a straight-backed posture, she expects to see the woman just as furious as she, except, there’s a sort of awe in her eyes that Regina stumbles back at. “Can you make more like this?” she asks excitedly, setting down what looks like gold coins on the workbench, and Regina’s eyes go wide.

 

 

> **iv. Henry Jr.**

He’s ten now, a big enough boy to understand that the family secrets are just family politics that go on twisting even if there’s a simple solution they all fail to see. He also knows that they’re not rich, not even close enough to any sort of money that might give him the courage to ask for a large book of fairy tales that he stares at through the closed shop window. It’s got this gleam to it that makes it seem almost sacred, and Henry is desperate enough to find an outlet for his imagination that gets snipped off every time his father sighs at another bill in the mail.

 

It’s an average day when he enters the bakery before school to fetch a treat for lunch, the quiet mum of the shop soothing enough for him to think up exaggerated stories about dragons and knights, and what the day might bring if he thinks hard enough. Usually, the sound of the little bell above the door brings his sister out to greet him, and with her around, Henry doesn’t find the need to escape like he normally does. He feels safe with her in their silent bakery, the smell of warm deserts enough to have his toes curl in happiness.

 

This time, there isn’t any sound of the ovens going, or Regina coming out with a packed turnover and a wink for him as she slips it in his backpack. Ruby isn’t here to lean against the doorway and tell him to have a good day as his cheeks burn as brightly as his crush on her. Strange.

 

Placing his backpack by the counter, Henry walks into the backroom and gasps at the sight before him. “A Knight?!” He squeals, his eyes wide as he takes in the woman standing by a ruined cake, the sheath of a sword at her side and a horse nudging her shoulder.

 

“Henry!” Regina exclaims, and Henry is too excited to push his sister away when she clutches him so tightly.

 

“Uh,” the woman says, her eyes darting between Regina and Ruby who stands just as shocked in the corner. Henry will look and blush at her later, but for now, there’s a woman wearing clothes from the book he wants so badly, and she has a sword, and a horse, and she’s—she’s— _asdfghjkl!_

 

“Even the kid likes her,” Ruby says from behind him, and Henry nods his head so enthusiastically, he’s sure Regina’s hand at the back of his neck is to make sure it doesn’t fall off.

 

“She could be a sociopath!” Regina whispers harshly, and the woman coughs none too delicately to make it known that she can hear.

 

“Look,” the woman says, “I don’t want to harm anyone, I just need a place to sleep and some food to eat. If you can’t help me, then maybe you can point me to someone who can.” Henry’s eyes catch the two gold coins on Regina’s workbench and he squeals even more.

 

“No, no,” Ruby says hurriedly, and she steps forward even though Regina gives her the scary face. “We can help you.”

 

“Ruby,” Regina stresses, and Henry tries to crane his neck to get a better view of the knight from behind Ruby’s back and Regina’s arms.

 

“We need the money, don’t we?” There’s silence for a moment, and even Henry stills against Regina’s chest as her heart begins to beat too quickly to be normal. They do need the money, and Henry does need a miracle in a world that was once large and fascinating, now only reduced to the problems of his family’s financial burdens.

 

“Okay,” Regina whispers back, placing both hands on Henry’s shoulders as he vibrates with excitement at the little wink the knight sends his way.

 

“Is she going to be staying with us?” Henry asks, jumping up and down in the spot, and Regina’s groan is enough to know that indeed she is.

 

“One week,” Regina says sternly, and the blonde knight picks her hands up as if to say _I agree_. Behind her, the horse sniffs, licking icing off its nose as it waits for everyone to make a move.

 

“I’ll stay here, clean up the mess.” Ruby looks to the knight with a narrowed gaze, and the knight shrugs sheepishly. “We have a few hours to get another wedding cake made, so—”

 

“Right. Right, okay.” Patting Henry’s shoulders as if he holds all the answers, Regina pulls him aside and bends down to his level once decisions he doesn’t understand are made. “Henry, I need you to go to school and just… be normal for the rest of the day. When you get back, we’ll discuss everything properly, okay?”

 

“But—”

 

“No buts,” she says sternly, pulling his gaze back by his chin. “We know nothing about this woman, and I need to keep a close eye on her in case this a police matter.”

 

“But what if she’s really a knight? Who else do we know has a horse?” He can see Regina’s eyebrows furrowing in thought, and he thinks he’s won something when she breathes out a frustrated breath and takes him to the main room, a wrapped up turnover zipped into his bag.

 

“Go to school, we’ll discuss this later.” Henry hugs Regina around the middle and closes his eyes when she presses a kiss to his hair. For now, he’ll go to school, but when he gets home he’ll have a list of questions to ask and a real knight living in their house!

 

 

> **v. Henry Sr.**

“I’d always thought you would bring Robin home, but this fine young lady is quite the upgrade.”

 

“Daddy!” Regina screeches, and Henry laughs a low happy laugh that speaks of absolute joy instead of the financial burdens he’s weighed down with daily. “This is Emma,” Regina grits out over his lingering chuckle, the distaste evident on her features as she squares her jaw against the woman’s name as if spitting out poison. “She needs a place to stay.”

 

Henry has been known to have a generous heart, helping others even if they cannot repay him in any way. This Emma, however, she looks far too shifty for Henry to simply let her in, but pathetic enough that he steps away from the door to offer an invitation regardless. Cora had the same look in her eyes when they first met, the look of the lost, and his heart pangs in sorrow over the woman who left him far too soon.

 

“I see,” he says evenly, smiling kindly at Emma who picks her lips up hesitantly. “Come, I’ll find you something to eat.” He sees Regina jerk at that, and Emma shifts from foot to foot as if guilty of something. Henry doesn’t pry, and only allows Regina to gesture into their home to let Emma inside.

 

“I expected you to put up more a fight,” Regina hisses once the front door is closed and Emma is made to sit in the living room, Henry waiting for the kettle to finish as Regina keeps an eye on their guest.

 

“A good deed never goes unnoticed, Regina. You’re helping someone in need, why would I fight you on that?”

 

“She’s paying us.” It comes out in a rush, and Henry’s hand grows warm where Regina places down a gold coin. It’s heavy, and isn’t a perfect circle, but it’s gleaming in the morning light and looks far too expensive to be in the hands of a woman who looks as if she hasn’t seen a shower in days.

 

“Did you ask her where she got this from?”

 

“I didn’t exactly think beyond settling our debts, and besides—”

 

“What if she’s a thief? What if she’s wanted by the police? Regina you can’t bring her here with Henry in the house, this is—”

 

“Daddy,” Regina pleads, and Henry leans against the kitchen counter defeated. “Let’s give her one week. We can sit her down and ask her whatever we want tonight, but for now, we _need_ this. What about good deeds not going unpaid and whatever other proverbs you’ve read recently?”

 

Henry swallows at that, wondering if all his good deeds are being paid in full now, whether this isn’t a test of selfishness against a gold coin. Would he be selfish if he accepts payment to keep a roof over his children’s heads? Surely not. The kettle goes off behind him, and Henry remains silent as he pours the boiling water into a teapot, setting everything onto a tray that he brings out into the living room.

 

Emma watches him carefully, eyes narrowed and fingers intertwined with each other on her lap to show that she hasn’t taken anything, that she isn’t the thief he thinks she is. “Tea?” he asks, and Emma nods her head slowly as he pours three cups, adding too much sugar and too much milk to his. Emma does the same, a hungry look in her eyes that Henry watches just as carefully as Emma watches him.

 

“So,” he begins, because he is the head of this house, and the gold coin isn’t enough to buy his ignorance when he has two children and a bakery to take care of.

 

“So,” Emma repeats, blowing on her tea before taking a tentative sip, both hands wrapped around the mug she holds as if someone will take her tea away. Regina stands to the side, both arms crossed over her chest as she ignores her tea all together and focuses on the pair of them instead.

 

“Where are you from, Emma?”

 

“Uhm, all over, I guess,” Emma says, gulping down as much of her tea as possible.

 

Henry’s fingers tap against his mug, contemplative of what he might lose should he pry too much into this woman and her whereabouts. She looks ready to run and take her gold coins along with her too, but Henry isn’t afraid of losing some wealth, so he pulls the coin from his pocket and places it on the table between them. “Did you steal this?” he asks, and Emma seems to jump in fright.

 

Emma licks her lips, gaze moving from Regina to Henry and then back again. “Look, I don’t—” the rest of her tea is chugged down, “appreciate being questioned. I’ll find someone else to—”

 

“No, no, wait!” It’s the first time he’s seen Regina so desperate, and Henry hates that he’s dropped half his burden on his young daughter’s shoulders for it to come to this. “What my father wants to know,” she stresses, “is whether we will be persecuted for accepting your money. If this is stolen, then no one else is going to take you on with gold coins as your only payment. It rings a lot of alarm bells.” Regina strains when she speaks, and Henry looks to Emma as she clenches and unclenches her fingers into a fist.

 

“It’s not stolen from anywhere in this world,” Emma says confidently, and Henry breathes a sigh of relief. “I only need a place to stay, a bit of food, and someone to help me, uh, remember how things work.”

 

“Remember?” Henry probes, setting his cup down to stand up.

 

Emma looks like a spooked animal again, but her spine straightens and her chin lifts much in the same way Cora had done countless times when she was trying to be brave. “I was a pampered girl. My parents were killed in a… crash, this is my inheritance. I don’t know how to use anything because I’ve had servants to do it for me.” Emma clears her throat, and it’s a blatant lie, but Henry rubs his hand down his face and promises himself to give this girl a chance. He has friends in the police force, he’ll check to see if any missing persons matches the description of this Emma.

 

“Fine,” he says, and Regina relaxes beside him, “you can stay, and Regina here will take care of anything you need.” When he pats his daughter’s shoulder, he knows exactly what he’s doing when he pushes these two women together. Regina could learn a thing or two from Emma—she certainly never did from Cora who had been too busy running a business to raise their children.

 

[][][]

 

It’s after Henry comes home from school, a light snack prepared for him and Emma, does Henry Sr.’s phone go off, Detective Spencer confirming that Emma doesn’t match any descriptions of reported missing people, nor does the discrete candid photograph match any criminal records they have on file. Emma is a clean citizen, and Henry Sr. relaxes when he puts her odd clothes in the washing machine, the sound of Regina and Emma arguing upstairs over something mundane surprisingly soothing.


	2. Chapter 2

 

> **i. Day one.**

Henry jr. sits in front of the Knight who looks far cleaner than when he first saw her, his eyes wide as he keeps his questions to himself, Regina kicking him under the table when he tried to ask earlier. They’re eating an extravagant dinner, and that usually means they have important guests over, or that Regina is upset enough to cook more than they need. Henry thinks it’s the latter reason, because the Knight who had introduced herself as Emma eats as if she’s been starved and someone will pull her plate away before she’s done.

 

Daddy dishes more for Emma every time her plate is empty, and he laughs as if he’s happy again instead of worrying about the bakery and his sadness over Mama being gone.

 

“Where’s your horse?” Henry manages to ask, and Emma looks at him with confusion before Regina cuts in.

 

“He’s with Ruby at the bakery for now. Tomorrow we’ll see about moving him to a stable.”

 

“Him?” Slips out from Emma’s mouth, and Henry frowns at Emma. Which knight doesn’t know what gender their horse is? Regina seems to have the same question because she looks at Emma with a frown, her grip tightening over her fork.

 

“Never mind that,” Daddy says, and that’s the end of any discussion that might allow Henry to get a better glimpse at the things Emma had trudged in through the door earlier; nothing that had looked like the belongings of a pampered girl who doesn’t mourn the death of her parents.

 

Supper dishes are washed and put away, and Henry is sent to bed just as Emma yawns. Regina takes them both up the stairs, and Henry is steered to Daddy’s room where he knows he’s going to spend the rest of the night, a kiss to his cheek from Regina and a _goodnight, kid_ from Emma who smiles cheekily at him. When Henry switches off the light and pretends to be asleep, he creeps toward the door where he can see Regina and Emma standing outside his room, speaking in hushed tones he barely makes out.

 

“I’ll know if you steal anything,” Regina says snidely.

 

“Why would I need to steal anything if I have enough money to buy it?”

 

“I don’t know? Maybe you’re just biding your time. I wouldn’t know how criminal minds work.” Regina crosses her arms across her chest, but Henry can’t see her face.

 

“Or maybe,” Emma says smugly, stepping forward into Regina’s space, “there’s another reason I’m here.” Henry frowns at the words, the air between his sister and the Knight tense, even when Regina steps away with a firm _goodnight_ and gives Emma her scary face as she disappears into her own bedroom.

 

Henry goes into bed thereafter, and is too tired to wake up in the middle of the night to ask Emma any of the questions he has written down, not when his father pats his chest in time with his heart, and his nightmares are soothed with a lullaby his mother used to sing.

  

 

> **ii. Day two.**

Regina hasn’t slept since Emma has stepped foot into her home, and she probably won’t sleep until she leaves. They need the money, that’s for sure, but they also have to be smart about it.

 

The prices of gold are searched, and Regina rubs her hand across her forehead when she looks up where to sell the gold pieces. She’s been paid for that cake by the monster who ate it, and managed to make another one with less icing than before; only one line of stencilling instead of two, and a little more roses to cover up mistakes made in a rush with Ruby manning the front and running back to try and help in whatever way she could. The check for that had come in from the original clients, but Ruby hadn’t cashed in it yet, and it would only cover the cost of the ingredients they used for both the cakes without any profit to pay for rent. These two gold coins is all Regina has for now.

 

A name comes up, a _Gold’s pawnshop_ that Regina writes down the address for and hopes to gods she gets a good price for something too valuable.

 

“Get up,” she calls, knocking on Henry’s bedroom door to reveal a lump buried underneath an ironman blanket.

 

“ _No_ ,” she hears, and her grip on the door handle tightens. Any other guest and Regina might’ve been a little nicer, but this is the same woman she saw eating a wedding cake with her hands by breaking in through a backroom window. Someone holding this much gold would have the decency to walk in through the front door—but not Emma, and Regina’s not taking any chances with her even if she’s getting paid to keep her suspicions to herself.

 

“You’d better hurry up and get showered before Henry does. I’m taking you to the bakery.” They’re all better off if Emma comes to the bakery.

 

Emma turns and pushes the blanket off of her, golden hair splayed every which way as she stares at Regina with narrowed eyes. “Fine,” she huffs, and Regina steps back in surprise. She had expected a little more snootiness, or perhaps being called out on how she doesn’t treat Emma like a guest, but instead, she’s being humoured, and that grates on every last nerve that’s been untouched.

 

Emma is handed a new set of underwear, some loose fitted pants, and a t-shirt that she’s more than happy to wear. Regina opens the shower for her and points to the cleaning products as she had done yesterday. The toothbrush she had been given is rinsed and adorned with toothpaste, and then Regina closes the bathroom door to leave Emma to do what she needs. The novelty of the bathroom is once again relived, and Emma only emerges from it once the place is steamed up and the water has run cold. Henry’s shrill at that makes her chuckle cruelly.

 

“We’re going to go to a pawnshop today,” Regina announces once she’s pushed a plate of eggs Emma’s way.

 

“Why?” Emma asks, breaking a bit of toast off to chew on.

 

“To exchange it for money we can use,” Henry replies, setting down his newspaper to give Emma his undivided attention. Emma isn’t used to people caring about her like this—Regina worries about what she might do, and that she’s well equipped to handle, but Henry, or Papa as he’s told her to call him, looks at her with something akin to affection. Emma can’t stay here long, but the thought of leaving when this family has given her more than anyone has in all her years makes her ache just a little. _They’re doing it for the money_ , her mind supplies, and she swallows thickly when she sips at the mug of coffee Regina places in front of her.

 

[][][]

 

The bakery feels more like home than the horseless carriage Regina takes her in, or the large buildings that turn yellow when the sun peeks out from between them. This isn’t her world, and she’s part grateful and part sad that everything she’s ever known doesn’t matter here.

 

“Do you know how to bake?” Ruby asks her when she’s standing awkwardly in the middle of the shop, Regina dismissing her as soon as she had tied that white apron around her middle and disappeared into the backroom.

 

“I’ve never really tried,” Emma answers honestly, and Ruby chuckles at her before throwing an apron at her face.

 

“No day like today then, huh?” There’s something about Ruby that’s easy and uncomplicated, not like Regina who huffs and looks over at her every three seconds as if she’s a human bomb waiting to explode. It doesn’t help that the night before Emma may have been flirting with her, turning the woman’s cheeks a pretty tinge of rose.

 

“Let's start you off with something simple, and then we can try other things?” Emma nods enthusiastically, tying the apron behind her back but fumbling with the strings. Smooth fingers grasp her own as she tries to reach for the escaping apron, tying the garment around her with a gentleness that makes Emma’s body flush.

 

“If you make something worthwhile, you can eat it.” Regina’s voice this close has Emma shiver, but when she hears the actual words, she’s more than willing to try her hand at making something that might taste just as good as Regina’s creations.

 

“Bet?” She asks smugly, tugging down on her apron.

 

“Bet,” Regina responds, a hint of challenge in her eyes as Ruby looks between the two of them with raised eyebrows.

 

Emma has spent so much time trying to steal food in her youth that she’s pretty much learned how to make the things she likes to eat from watching cooks prepare meals and then setting them aside to cool. She’s stolen too hot pies as they rested on window sills, freshly baked buns as they were given to serving boys, and soups that were hung over the fire within enough reach to dish a bowl and then run. Emma has enough skill to recreate a simple sponge cake, Regina’s eyes widening with a hungry passion that she pushes into her own dough, and Ruby running between the too few customers and the competition that grows hotter with each passing second.

 

It’s only strange when Emma doesn’t know how to work the oven, and Ruby’s explanation of temperatures and knobs have Emma groan. “What about that?” she asks.

 

“That’s the old pizza oven. We don’t use it anymore.”

 

“Can I use it? It’s, uh, the way I make my cakes.”

 

“On a fire?” Ruby asks, sceptical.

 

“On a fire,” Emma says with confidence she doesn’t feel. It takes her a few more minutes to light the fire, but once she’s sure it’s about the right temperature, Emma places her baking tray on the grill, counting down the minutes in her head and adjusting the temperature of the fire by adding in more twigs and removing burning pieces of wood that smoke up. It wasn’t like they had dry wood lying around, and Emma’s far too excited to win something that she doesn’t care about having a smoked cake.

 

Regina’s cake looks better than Emma’s. That’s obvious with the little sugar rose and lines of elegant piping that Emma’s clearly lacks. Emma’s cake is slanting to one side and is covered in yellow icing that looks as if it’s been buttered on, but when Ruby bites into it, it’s clear as to who the winner is.

 

“Wow,” Ruby says, and Emma’s posture straightens. “This is really, really—” the glare Regina sends her way has Ruby close her mouth slowly and choke on the piece of cake, a customer suddenly needing help which leaves Regina and Emma alone.

 

“Mine tastes better,” Emma says after a moment of silence, and Regina growls out before taking a bite of her own creation, nodding in approval and then reaching for Emma’s with hesitance.

 

“I don’t know if this is poisoned,” she says snidely.

 

Emma rolls her eyes and shoves a piece of the cake in Regina’s big mouth, lips closing over her fingers to lick the icing clean. Regina’s eyes have darkened, and Emma swallows back a gasp over this obvious attraction to a stranger.

 

“Acceptable,” Regina says, and Emma beams at the hidden compliment in the way Regina’s lips quirk upwards in a hint of a smile.

 

[][][]

 

Mr Gold is a cunning man who looks over the gold coin with scepticism. Emma tells him her rehearsed story with a little more confidence, and Regina doesn’t make any comments with Papa Henry standing beside her with a warning look.

 

It takes much debate, Regina’s voice lowering into an aggravated husk the angrier she gets over the price of the coin, and Emma’s face grows hotter the longer she speaks. She might find the dark haired woman attractive, might still have a piece of that cake wrapped up and tucked into her pocket for later, but Emma will never admit to any of these things out loud so as long as she knows she’s only being tolerated for her gold.

 

In the end, with more than enough cash from the looks of Papa Henry and Regina’s faces, Emma’s day is officially over after inhaling leftovers from the night before and collapsing into bed without anymore trouble. The last thing she thinks about, before her eyes close against her exhaustion, is that she’s finally found a safe place.

 

 

> **iii. Day three.**

It’s Saturday, and that means three definite things:

  1. Ruby is going to get wasted, 
  2. Robin is going to ask Ruby about Regina, and 
  3. Ruby is going to regret it all the next morning.



 

Three things are supposed to happen, but Ruby sits in the Bakery too early on a Saturday morning feeding a horse who has too much attitude, and trying to figure out if Regina’s only shoving Robin away because she has a big lady boner for homeless, rich blondes.

 

“She didn’t even care about you when she came here yesterday,” Ruby tells the horse, patting his side affectionately. There’s too many loopholes in Emma’s story, and whilst she should be worried about what trouble Emma might bring, Ruby is far more concerned with how Emma manages to make Regina blush and smile over the simplest things. A bake off? Regina would have cried bloody murder at a waste of ingredients before she agreed, but Regina hadn’t only gracefully (or as gracefully as Regina can manage) accept defeat over taste, but she had watched Emma devour both cakes with a fondness reserved specifically for Henry alone.

 

“Are you talking to yourself again?” Ruby turns at the sound of Regina’s voice, smiling at her as she steps forward to pat the horse. Regina has always had a soft spot for them, even after she had been kicked in the face by one; that scar still prominent on her upper lip.

 

“Do you have a name for him?”

 

“Uh.” The hesitance from Emma in the doorway has Ruby frown, and the shrug she gives Regina makes Ruby want to pull their guest apart and look for the answers that are hidden behind layers upon layers of survival skills.

 

“You didn’t name him?” Regina asks, aghast.

 

“He’s new,” Emma says, “I didn’t get the chance to.”

 

Regina hums in acknowledgement as she continues to stoke the horse’s side, the sun rising in the background as the day only starts now for the rest of the city. Emma hasn’t been out much besides to the bakery and then back to Regina’s house, and although she doesn’t complain, Ruby isn’t about to let her become another Regina.

 

“Hey, Emma,” she says, catching Emma’s attention that seems focused onto Regina’s behind as she walks the horse around the yard they don’t use behind the bakery. “Do you want to do something fun tonight? It’s Saturday after all.”

 

Emma looks to Regina, and Ruby wants to smack them both and say _Kiss Already_ , but she refrains from whoring her best friend out to a stranger—for now. “Uhm, okay? Will Regina come?”

 

“Regina isn’t fun,” Ruby shoots over her shoulder, and Regina’s wide eyed look of betrayal is almost worth it.

 

“I am _fun_ ,” Regina spits.

 

“Nuh uh. When was the last time you went out?” Wiggling her eyebrows in challenge, because money isn’t an issue when Ruby is more than happy to buy a round of drinks and dance sober against a few sweaty bodies, Regina struggles to form a reply.

 

“I’ve been busy,” she argues lamely, brushing her hands down her pants to make a hasty exit.

 

“You’re not busy tonight, are you?” Emma is smooth when she asks, catching Regina in the doorway where they stand too close together. Ruby watches on impressed as Regina stands up straight and fails to find an appropriate response.

 

“No,” Regina finally says, chin held up high before she goes into the backroom to start the work day. Ruby holds up two thumbs for Emma, and Emma smirks back as if they’ve conquered a mountain.

 

[][][]

 

Regina is not ready at all for tonight. She hasn’t got anything to wear, and she’s dreading meeting Robin after she ran out on him after a night of less than satisfying sex. There’s no excuse this time, not with a wad of cash in her hand and Emma excited enough about buying new _modern_ clothes.

 

She hasn’t drummed up the courage to ask Emma about her strange clothing or why her eyes light up every time she turns on an appliance; but for now, the lie about a pampered life for someone who inhales food and stores it away in a room she doesn’t bitch about belonging to a pubescent boy, sticks. Regina isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, not when she’s just paid the month’s rent for the bakery, and the electricity bill, the internet bill, put fuel in her car, paid off Henry’s remaining school fees, and given her father money to buy groceries. This is… financial bliss.

 

“Why are all these so short?” Emma asks, thumbing through the rack of clothes she wrinkles her nose at.

 

“It’s fashion,” Regina remarks, “something you have no sense of.” Which is a backhanded insult considering Emma has been wearing Regina’s clothes and living off of the underwear Ruby had been smart enough to buy for her from the corner store.

 

“This isn’t fashion,” Emma grumps, her boots thumping along the flooring as she walks further into the store, stopping at the men’s section that Regina sighs at.

 

“That’s the men’s, dear.”

 

“But these look comfortable. I think I can actually walk in these.” And okay, it’s sort of the same things Emma had been wearing when they met, but Regina has the urge to see Emma in a dress just once.

 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” a store assistant asks, and Emma turns to the woman who wears a skirt suit and red hair in a bun.

 

“I need clothes like this,” Emma iterates, pointing to the rows of jeans and t-shirts that all look the same, but Regina knows for a fact that they’re far more durable than anything in the women’s section.

 

The store assistant, _Alice_ , Regina reads on her nametag as she walks closer, looks over at Emma once, twice, and then smiles as if she’s got Emma’s style down. _Please_ , Regina knows exactly what Emma needs, and it isn’t ripped jeans and loose fitted t-shirts. Emma needs elegance, something slim fitted, knee length, a blazer maybe… _hmm_.

 

“Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll bring over a few items for you to try on.”

 

“This is so exciting,” Emma breathes, and Regina swallows down every comment she has, politely pushing Emma back from her personal space. Emma doesn’t smell like a disowned rat anymore, she smells like vanilla and soap, and her hair shines in the artificial lighting like a halo. There’s something wholly beautiful about her that Regina absolutely loathes.

 

Alice returns with a pile of clothes and ushers Emma into the changeroom, Regina sitting with one knee crossed over the other as she glares at Alice who flutters around Emma with too much _touch_. Emma calls from within the changeroom once, and before Regina can get up, Alice is pushing back the curtain and stepping inside with Emma. Regina’s blood boils, and she doesn’t know why, only that when Emma steps out wearing black skinny jeans hugging every muscle in her legs and a buttoned up blue flannel shirt given a bit of shape with a black denim waistcoat, her blood goes hot for entirely different reasons.

 

“Shoes,” she manages to squeak, and Alice runs around the store to find a pair of doc martins that make Emma look like she’s walking the streets of New York setting a fashion trend and turning heads, instead of a woman with bad eating habits and an unnamed horse.

 

“So?” Emma asks, and Regina’s gaze snaps up to Emma’s face to see the clear need for approval written there.

 

“It suits you,” she says simply, chin held high and shoulders straight, but no matter her attempts to seem indifferent, Emma lights up regardless. This time, when Emma goes back into the changeroom, Alice smiling as wide as her commission will be, Regina gets up at the sight of Ruby approaching, unable to take any more of this.

 

“Hey, where are you going?”

 

“I need to go to the bakery.”

 

“Papa is there, it’s all fine. Besides, we need to get you a party dress.” Ruby’s eyebrows wiggle and she shimmies in place, but Regina’s cheeks are rose and she can’t breathe very well. This isn’t supposed to happen, she can’t… she can’t find Emma attractive, not when she’ll leave and the bakery needs all of her right now.

 

“I just need to go, okay?!” Regina snaps, “make sure Emma buys suitable clothing. Don’t forget underwear and shoes—whatever she wants. I just, I—”

 

Ruby clutches onto Regina’s hand, two decades of knowing each other enough for Ruby to know that Regina doesn’t usually find anyone attractive, but when she does, even if she doesn’t know it yet, she falls so deep it becomes all consuming. “Okay,” Ruby says softly, “I’ll make sure she doesn’t embarrass you.” Regina shoves Ruby at that, handing her the cash she might need before leaving the store with a worried expression still on her face.

 

“What do you—Regina?”

 

“She had to leave,” Ruby tells Emma, watching as the blonde’s face scrunches adorably.

 

“Oh,” she says, standing there in leggings and a tie-dye tank top. It’s a cute athletic look, but Ruby isn’t about to let Regina blush over something _cute_ when she can make Emma look smoking hot.

 

“We need something… racier,” she tells the store assistant, and they both look Emma up and down before dashing off to pick items Regina might drool at.

 

[][][]

 

“She’s a knight, you know,” Henry says, swinging their hands back and forth as they walk across the park.

 

“Henry,” Regina warns.

 

“You don’t want to see it because it will be too hard to understand, but all the signs make sense. You haven’t even asked her the important questions, like where she’s from, or what her surname is, or why she has a horse. Who even carries around gold coins, and stuff?” Henry has a point, but Regina doesn’t want to believe in any sort of fairy tales when her life has been anything but a cake walk. There isn’t any hero that’s going to save her, and there sure as hell isn’t a fairy godmother looking out for her best interests. They’re alone out here, and Henry’s belief in Emma being anything other than possibly a runaway, might be harmful for them all.

 

“Do you think Emma would keep something like that from us if she wanted us to know?” As much as she loves her brother, as much as she wants him to grow up about certain things, she can’t help but entertain his imagination just to keep him innocent in a way she never was at that age.

 

“Maybe she thinks you don’t care,” Henry counters with, leading them to a bench where they sit across from the small pond. “Maybe she thinks keeping pieces of herself a secret will keep her safe.”

 

“Safe from what Henry, _monsters?_ ”

 

“No,” Henry answers softly, leaning into Regina’s side, “from heartbreak.” Regina’s body tenses at the little piece of truth that’s prevalent in all of them. She clutches onto Henry tight enough that she tells him she’s sorry about not keeping him innocent in the way her arms encircle around his shoulders. They say nothing for the next few minutes, nothing until they go back to the bakery to help Daddy out with the few customers who dwindle in.

 

Something catches the corner of Regina’s eye when she goes outside to throw out the trash a few hours later, but as soon as she blinks, the dark spot is gone, and she tells herself it’s probably a side effect from having not eaten the entire day. Besides, if she wants to survive the night, she might as well go home and take a nap, maybe also check that Ruby hasn’t fed Emma any ideas in her company.

 

Emma, as Regina had been so worried, sleeps comfortably on her bed, and Regina stares at her for longer than necessary until she pulls herself out from her trance. Now isn’t the time, not with gold and a mysterious past behind a woman Regina might just _like_.

 

[][][]

 

Saturday night comes too soon, and Regina hasn’t got anything to wear. She’s been busy enough with helping Daddy cook supper, trying to keep Henry away from Emma, and trying to keep Emma away from _her_ , that she’s forgotten all about going out until Ruby is standing inside her home with a bottle of vodka.

 

“I’m not going to pay good money to drink diluted alcohol when I can have as much as I want for a quarter of the price at home.” Regina releases a noise at the back of her throat that sounds like a trapped scream when her father brings out glasses and laughs that hearty laugh as he joins her best friend in toasting to everything under the sun.

 

She manages, with much panic, to find a strappy black dress at the back of her closet, to which she pairs with bearably comfortable heels that she has broken into enough times to go the entire night dancing in it. The strappy sandal matches the straps of her dress, and the dainty silver necklace she clasps over her neck settles between a hint of her cleavage to draw the eyes to the pendent there. Fake diamond studs and red lipstick later, and Regina descends the stairs with a fitted black leather jacket thrown over her arm.

 

Ruby whistles obscenely, and she’s grateful that Henry is asleep because that crush is getting out of hand. “You look,” she hears, turning around to face Emma who stands before her in ripped blue jeans and a very loud red leather jacket, “you look—”

 

“Fucking sexy!” And Ruby is drunk, but Regina flushes at the compliment regardless.

 

“Shall we go?” She asks, and Emma nods her head as she leads Ruby out the door, shoving her into what Regina calls a taxi to take them to a place that has very loud music, and too many people.

 

“You’ve never been to a club before?” Ruby yells into her ear, and Emma shakes her head because she hasn’t mastered the art of yelling over this thumping bass. What does one do here, exactly?

 

“Okay, babe,” Ruby slurs, “there are three rules. One,” she counts on her fingers, “you have to drink and get drunk out of your mind. Two, you have to dance, dance, _dance_.” Ruby dances where she stands, shaking her shoulders and moving her hips with such rhythm, that Emma can’t help but stare. “And three,” she leans in close for this one, pulling out a note from her brassier to place on the table in front of her, Regina scoffing next to them as she too pays the man seated before them. “You have to find someone fuckable, and then have a _good_ time.”

 

“You mean sex?!” Emma asks, shouting over the music just as it pauses, her words echoing for a second before the music starts again, but the staring doesn’t stop.

 

Ruby smacks her forehead, and Regina slides in closer to Emma with a glare ready on her face to fire at whoever stares for too long. “Not if you want to,” Ruby husks, her eyebrows raising and eyes widening in a signal that Emma doesn’t understand, but Regina clearly does because she scoffs again, holding out her wrist for the man they’ve paid to stamp it.

 

Emma’s wrist itches, but she’s told it acts like a pass that allows her to leave and come back again, so she’s careful not to rub all the ink off. There are fruity flavoured drinks and drinks that taste vile, but she drinks them all with a glint of Regina’s eyes that hold too much challenge in them. Regina doesn’t sway or slur, but Emma is starting to feel a tad bit light headed at the amount of alcohol she’s consumed.

 

Once they’ve had a bit to drink and Emma complains of this, Ruby drags them onto the dance floor where unfamiliar music has her shake her hips anyways. It’s the sort of music that isn’t exactly sensual, but rhythmic enough for Emma’s body to move without her consent. She loves every moment of it, loves being carefree and something other than a vagrant, thief or orphan. Here, she is friend, she is an average dancer, and she’s subject to Regina’s heated looks that grow in intensity after every drink they have.

 

They’re moving to a song, something with a woman’s voice:

 

_I don’t know just how it happened, I let down my guard_

_Swore I’d never fall in love again, but I fell hard_

_Guess I should have seen it coming, Caught me by surprise_

_Wasn’t looking where I was going, I fell into your eyes_

_You came into my crazy world like a cool and cleansing ray,_

_Before I knew what hit me baby, you were flowing through my veins._

_I’m addicted to you…_

 

And they move closer without Ruby between them, her tongue down someone’s throat, Regina and Emma left to fend for themselves on the dance floor. Regina is perfectly fine here, her hips swaying and her shoulders moving in time to the beat, her dress clinging to every curve, but Emma is out of her element—literally, and the muscle shirt that sticks to her back isn’t as attractive on her as Ruby might’ve suggested it is. Only Regina dances closer to her until their fronts are pressed together, and her hands run down Emma’s muscled arms much in the way Ruby had predicted.

 

There’s a spark here, the start of something potentially wonderful that will make this world Emma’s home, and she’s leaning into Regina’s space just as Regina leans into her, breath hitting Emma’s cheek as they dance impossibly closer, but just as Emma’s lips are about to touch Regina’s, there’s a call and Regina jerks back as if pulled from a trance.

 

“Robin,” she says, and although her voice is soft, it cuts through the music with precision.

 

“I didn’t expect to see you here—uhm,” he looks to Emma unsure, Emma’s arm still around Regina’s waist in a possessive stance that emotes just how pissed she is at this man for ruining her moment. “Can we talk somewhere quieter?”

 

Emma expects Regina to say no, but she nods in the affirmative, telling Emma to find Ruby in the corner where she sits on the lap of some dark haired woman. “I’ll just be a minute,” Regina promises, but Emma doubts that.

 

[][][]

 

It’s late when they come home, Ruby given an hour to sober up as they walk her up and down the street before tentatively pulling her up the stairs to Regina’s room once they’re sure she isn’t going to throw up.

 

“I had a good time tonight,” Emma says, trying for conversation, trying to bring back the ruined moment by a Robin who has stolen Regina for more than a minute—for longer than Emma thinks appropriate.

 

“It was fun,” Regina agrees, removing Ruby’s shoes and tucking her into the blankets. She says nothing more, and Emma shifts her weight from foot to foot before giving up. This isn’t her world, the rules here are different from what she knows, and Regina has become too important to experiment on.

 

“Emma,” Regina calls, and Emma pauses to turn and face Regina. “I want you to know.” Emma’s body freezes, her heart begins to pound, could this be it? “That I do care—I just, I know privacy is important to you, but if there’s anything you want to tell me, I’m here to listen.” Emma’s body unfreezes and becomes warm instead. Regina isn’t going to kick her out because of the near kiss, she isn’t doing anything that might separate them. Emma thinks Regina might actually _like_ her, and that is enough for her heart to crack wide open.

 

“Thanks,” she says softly, hands in the pockets of her new jeans, knee length boots tight against her calves. “But I don’t think you’d believe me.”

 

Regina’s eyebrows pull together in concern, and Emma smiles thinly before walking away. She thinks that she’s ended the conversation and the night with a hint of both pain and pleasure, but Regina follows her to the room she wishes she had as a child and switches on the light to find her fishing around in the knapsack she had brought with her when she first arrived.

 

“Are you leaving?” Regina asks, worry evident in her voice.

 

“Here,” Emma offers instead, one of the bags of gold held out to Regina who takes it with a shaky hand. She’s still a little tipsy, and her guard is dropped low enough that she sits down on the floor with Emma, back against the single bed that has the Avengers bedding on it now.

 

When the bag is emptied on the floor in front of them, Regina’s gasp echoes the same reaction Emma had when she first saw it. It’s such a human thing to do that Emma stares at Regina until her face is burned behind her eyelids. “Why?”

 

“I want you to have it.”

 

“This is too much,” Regina says, pushing the gold back as if it will make any difference.

 

“It’s too little,” Emma counters, “I would give you everything for what you’ve given me.”

 

“I haven’t given you anything, Emma. I haven’t even asked what your last name is, or where you’ve come from, or what you do for a living. I haven’t bothered to ask you about anything because—because—” Regina shrugs her shoulders as if that will explain everything, and for some odd reason, Emma gets it, she gets everything.

 

“I’m an orphan,” she tells Regina, leaning back against the bed, her bare shoulder touching Regina’s. “I was abandoned as a baby, and I’ve been trying to survive ever since. This isn’t… I stole this.” She clenches her eyes shut, expecting a backlash, but all she’s met with is a quiet statement.

 

“You said this wasn’t stolen from anywhere in this world.”

 

“This isn’t stolen from _this_ world.”

 

Regina laughs, poking Emma in the side. “ _Har har_ , very funny. I know Ruby must have put you up to this. You might look like Supergirl and eat like the Flash, but you’re not an alien.”

 

Emma tries to smile along with Regina, but it falls flat. Regina is never going to believe her, and anything she does from here on out will be based on a lie. Slouching as Regina gets up to leave, Emma pushes aside the gold coins so that she doesn’t have to see them, a rounded crystal gem catching between her fingers. “Swan,” she says, holding up the egg shaped gem, “my surname is Swan.” She offers the gem to Regina, tanned fingers sliding down to her palm to pick the pretty thing up, Regina’s gaze heated once more.

 

That look burns Emma down to her core long after Regina has gone back to her own room, leaving Emma alone and amongst scattered gold coins.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

> **iv. Day four.**

Ruby groans through her eggs and black coffee, and Regina nurses her own mug with two fingers permanently pressed to her forehead. It’s only Emma who sits solemnly due to the state of her own heart rather than any alcohol induced state.

 

She’s concluded that she loves this family, and that she’s attracted to Regina who is just as guarded as her but riddled with qualities that has Emma swoon. It’s also the first day since she got here that Henry has her all to himself without Regina shooing him away.

 

“Are you a knight?” He asks her, and his eyes light up with excitement at the fact that she can answer uninterrupted, Papa Henry sipping on his morning coffee and reading the newspaper like he always does with only a look of amusement sent their way.

 

“Unfortunately no,” she answers, because honesty— even if it’s with a ten year old boy— seems like the only alleviation of grief she might have. 

 

“Oh,” he says, disappointed. “Then why do you have a sword?” Emma had forgotten about everything other than _Regina_ and the gold that kept her close to _Regina_ , and she wonders if that sword might do her any good in a world that doesn’t seem to use it.

 

“I took it from someone.” She tries to keep her answers short, but the expression of disappointment that falls across Henry’s features has her reach for him just to bring a smile back on his face. “I’m not from here,” she says in a whisper, and his eyes go wide again, “I’m from a place called the Enchanted Forest. There are knights and queens there, but I was just a, uh, bandit.”

 

“Like Robin Hood?!” He squeals, both Ruby and Regina groaning at the loud sound.

 

“Sure, kid,” she indulges him with. He doesn’t need to know the parts where she almost starved to death, no Robin Hood swooping in to save her, and neither did she have enough to share with anyone who wasn’t important to her. The enchanted forest doesn’t seem so different to this world that still has poverty in places Regina drives past, and Emma wonders what the gold she doesn’t need might do to help.

 

“So are there dragons and stuff?” Emma only laughs as she eats her cereal, answering whatever questions Henry has to the best of her ability, omitting the bad parts, exaggerating the good parts. She understands now why Regina protects him so much, why she’s kept him away from Emma who was an unknown, someone who might take away his childlike innocence and replace it with the horrors of the world.

 

[][][]

 

Henry tells her that _Sun_ day essentially means _FUN_ day, and that means that they have to do everything _he_ wants to do. Emma doesn’t mind when the only thing he asks for is to kick a ball around in the park, Emma tying her hair up into a messy ponytail as she moves seamlessly in the athletic wear that consists of black leggings, black sneakers, and a crop top that Emma had the good sense not to wear. She’s thrown on a baggy t-shirt instead, and laughs as Henry runs after her in a game of impromptu chase.

 

“You have a lovely boy,” a woman tells her when she’s clutching at her knees to try and get oxygen back into her lungs.

 

“Oh, no, he’s—”

 

“Henry! Don’t climb too high!” Regina yells from the background, looking a little worse for wear, but far better than she did that morning. It seems she decided to join them in the park after all.

 

“Oh, your wife is lovely too. You make for such a handsome family!” Emma chokes on air. Regina saddles up beside Emma without thought, running her hand through dark curly hair that’s still damp at the ends.

 

“Thank you,” Emma tells the woman who moves away, her fingers curling around Regina’s wrist where the stamp from the club is faded and almost gone. Regina had refused the gold she had given her last night, and yet she’s still welcomed into the Mills home despite her shifty story and bad table manners. This is her family, no matter the fact that she’s gotten attached too quickly, no matter the fact that she’s not even from this world.

 

“You okay?” Regina asks her, and Emma shakes her head with a smile. She didn’t mean to stare for so long, but she’s finding that she can’t help it anymore.

 

“Ruby spoke with her grandmother earlier, they own a stable just on the outskirts of town. She will be able to house your horse for as long as you need—but there’s one condition.”

 

“Oh?” Emma asks, swallowing thickly, wondering if the condition is proof of ownership.

 

“You have to name the poor fellow.” Emma breathes out a sigh of relief.

 

“Henry can name him.”

 

“Emma, he’s your horse, you can’t expect—”

 

“Henry can name him,” Emma says slowly, a strength to her voice that hasn’t been used before, her fingers still wrapped around Regina’s wrist where it burns.

 

“Fine. But I warn you, he isn’t very good at naming things.”

 

Regina is right, Henry isn’t very good at naming things, but Master Picksworth seems quite pleased with a name that sounds regal enough to belong to the queen’s elite group of carriage pullers. Emma coughs out a laugh, and covers her mouth when Regina nudges her side, but in the end, with a pleasing tone of a rasp and the pull of the _R_ , the horse is named Rocinante with Regina’s convincing argument in its favour. The certificate says _Master Rocinante_ when it’s handed over to Emma, and she stares at the script with her heart swelling three times its size at her horse being named by the Mills siblings.

 

[][][]

 

“You should tell her, you know,” Ruby says over a mug of hot chocolate in the bakery, Emma staying behind to clean up the mess in the back yard left by Rocinante.

 

“Tell who, what?” Emma asks, wiping her wet hands on a towel before reaching for her own mug of hot chocolate.

 

“Regina,” Ruby says with a hint of obviousness, “and that you like her, like, _like_ like her.”

 

“You’re not making any sense—and I do not _like_ Regina. We can barely stand each other.”

 

“Oh please,” Ruby scoffs, “The only thing either of you can’t stand, is when you’re not standing next to each other. If I have to see any more of that googly eyes you make at Regina, I’m going to puke.”

 

“I don’t make eyes at Regina,” Emma denies with a pout, palming the mug of hot chocolate before taking a sip from it. She doesn’t try to drink it all at once, doesn’t try to keep the mug to herself when she leaves it on the counter to let it cool, and Ruby smiles into her cup at the subtle changes in Emma’s behaviour. “And besides, we only tolerate each other because I need somewhere to stay, and I pay her enough to be polite towards me.”

 

Ruby’s scoff is enough for Emma to frown curiously, but the brunette keeps her thoughts to herself.

 

“What?” Emma pries, frustrated when Ruby shakes her head. “Ruby, come on.”

 

“If she really wanted your money, she would have taken that whole bag of gold you gave her, but instead she told you she cared about you—she likes you, and not because of your money.”

 

“How do you…”

 

“I wasn’t asleep, dummy,” Ruby sasses, “I was only trying to give you two some alone time before Robin screwed it all up.”

 

Oh, _Robin_. “Well, she likes him more than me, and _I_ don’t like her so _no one_ likes each other. That’s the end of that.” Emma reaches for her hot chocolate, drinks two gulps just to keep her mouth busy, and Ruby waits for her to swallow before Emma speaks again. “Does Regina like Robin?”

 

When Ruby laughs this time, it sounds like Papa Henry’s when he teaches Emma how something works, or when he tells one of his stories about Cora, so much of love in his voice. “Regina slept with him once and he became obsessed with her, but she let him down easy—which took longer than any of us expected, but no. Regina doesn’t like Robin in that way.”

 

Emma nods, licking her lips free of the hot chocolate that clings there before she finishes off her drink and sets the mug down. “Doesn’t mean she likes me back.”

 

“So you do like her!” Ruby exclaims, and Emma winces at being caught out.

 

“Maybe,” Emma says, shrugging, but it’s all Ruby needs to know.

 

 

> **v. Day five.**

The Monday rush means getting up before the sunrise, firing up the ovens, making pastries, and hoping that people will buy them. Regina is tired of that routine, tired of the waiting and the competition that doesn’t seem to end. She wants to stay in bed and forget all about Daddy’s knowing looks whenever he catches her staring at Emma, Henry’s pleading eyes whenever he walks past that store with that big brown book, and Emma… she wants to forget Emma entirely because they’re living off her money and Regina thinks it’s somehow appropriate to give away her heart as payment.

 

She can’t afford another heartbreak, not when the last one had shattered her. Emma could be anyone, and Regina could be falling for a fantasy as oblong as the egg shaped gem she reaches for in the dark.

 

It glows despite the absence of light, feels warm in her palm where the gold coins burn in their coldness. This feels real and heavy, something alive with as much love inside her heart that’s locked away out of fear. When Regina finally convinces herself to get up and get dressed, she slips the gem into her pocket without second thought, drawing strength from it with the giddiness of an attraction that’s grown too strong far too quickly.

 

This time, Regina doesn’t wake Emma up when she leaves for the bakery, and drives by silently where she starts her day with the usual prep, Ruby chatting to her about everything and nothing all at once; the ambience of the bakery almost nostalgic as Regina pulls out the old recipes just to smell home again.

 

When Ruby goes out to write the specials on the blackboard, Regina doesn’t expect customers, but they keep coming in for a taste of the old Mills’ Bakery, pointing at things that get sold out quicker than Regina can bake them. People are patient enough to leave their order and come back for it later in the day, and by the time noon rolls around and Regina shoves something in her mouth to eat, she’s laughing at herself for cursing the slow days.

 

[][][]

 

Henry sr. smiles at Emma as she comes down the stairs, dressed casually in a Henley top and jeans that makes her look younger than when she first arrived. There’s an ease to Emma now that’s evident in the way she greets Henry who does his homework on the table, pours herself coffee without tentatively asking, and sips from it much in the same way she now eats her food: with the intention of savouring it.

 

“Emma,” he calls, setting aside the Sudoku he’s been working on to give his undivided attention to the young woman.

 

“Something the matter?” Emma asks, suddenly nervous, but Henry shakes his head and gestures to the seat opposite him.

 

“You’re happy here, aren’t you?” He asks instead, because he had tried talking to Emma before, almost a week ago now, and she had seemed different then, distant in the way that indicated she hadn’t been close to anyone who hadn’t hurt her before.

 

“I am, very happy,” Emma answers, still sipping her coffee and reaching across into Henry’s abandoned plate for a biscuit.

 

“Good, good,” he says, nodding at his own thoughts before picking up his Sudoku again, filling in a number that completes the box and row. “Do you like my daughter?”

 

Emma chokes on the biscuit, swallowing a gulp of coffee to wash it away before she finds her words. Papa Henry is probably asking out curiosity in terms of _friendship_ —he won’t insinuate something romantic, would he? “Yeah, I guess,” Emma answers tentatively. “I mean she’s nice, and she takes such good care of everyone.” Nice is an overstatement, and Regina is rough when she tries to mother anyone, but Emma doesn’t lie to Papa Henry, not about this, not when a smile unconsciously blooms on her lips.

 

Henry smiles from behind his puzzle, filling in another number to complete his set. “I think Regina likes you too,” he says casually, knowing enough about his daughter to see too much of himself in her. Regina is strong and brave for things that doesn’t really matter, for things that will help everyone but herself—and Emma, no matter her past, is someone, even as a friend, could help Regina in ways that Cora had helped him.

 

“You think so?” Because what if? _What if…_

 

Henry sets his puzzle down to look at Emma fondly, a smirk on his lips that speaks about much more than the possibility of winning this battle against this game of Sudoku. “Why don’t you ask her?”

 

“What if she says no?”

 

“What if she says no? Henry and I will still like you. You’re family now, you’re important to us.” He doesn’t see the hug until he’s being choked by Emma’s shoulder jamming into his throat, and biscuit crumbs falling down onto his jersey.

 

“Thank you.” Emma says it with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, the aura of an overly excited child radiating from her as she grabs for her jacket and pulls on socks. “I’m gonna go to the bakery, to uhm…”

 

“No one is stopping you, child,” Henry chuckles, and his laugh is as loud and true as his love for his family is, following Emma all the way out of the house as she hops with one boot on, trying to lace up the other.

 

[][][]

 

It’s been _days_. The smell of the woman who had run from it had disappeared, and now it sits in the shadows waiting for a hint of something familiar to get it moving again. There’s a mission here, and it won’t linger for much longer when there’s an entire world it can destroy to get what it wants.

 

The window that’s unlocked is the only place that holds the scent of a street rat, and it slowly disappears behind the scent of warm pastries. It’s only when the smell of a baking cake piques it’s interest does the shadow dance in the familiar of the old world where cakes are made over fires and recipes are made from the earth. The scent doesn’t last long however, and it disappears as soon as the shadow thinks it has a target, all leads coming to a dead end once more.

 

It’s day five of waiting in this land without magic when it feels something. The energy is intense, pulsing with magic and life in way that makes the shadow shiver. It sits in wait, watching as the sun goes down steadily over the day, waiting as people come in and out to take away the scent of baking goods that slowly even out into a quiet hum.

 

The shadow is disturbed only once before sunset, a blonde woman with clumsy feet running past the alleyway, then running back with a curious gaze the shadow hides from. “What do we have here,” the woman says, reaching under the broken window to pull out the silver sword with blue embellishments, her eyes lighting up in recognition before she disappears with the hideous thing, the sun dropping down low enough for the shadow to growl out in pleasure.

 

It shifts, stretching as the darkness in the alleyway does, a figure forming with precision of watching people of this land for days now. Limbs begin to take form, and long blonde hair slides down the creatures back until the shadow isn’t an _it_ anymore, it’s a _she_. Someone with smokey grey eyes and a tall posture, plump lips dangerous enough to have anyone’s gaze drawn there. The darkness wraps around her naked form to cling to her skin tightly, long limbs stepping into a pantsuit as black as the night.

 

The bell above the shop jingles, the closed sign flapping against the door as it’s ignored. She doesn’t announce her presence like humans have been taught to do, and instead moves further into the shop as if drawn by a magnet. She’s waited enough already, chasing after queens and bandits alike; she will not destroy her chances now when it’s right within her reach at last.

 

“I uh,” she hears, heels clicking against the tile floor as she steps to watch the pair through the crack in the doorway. “I wanted to—” the blonde one blushes, rubbing the back of her neck as she scruffs her shoe against the grout of the tile.

 

“Emma,” the shorter one says, her stance casual but the tenseness in her arms giving her away, “you don’t have to keep thanking me.”

 

“I’m not—I’m not thanking you, not that I’m not grateful. It’s just… this is…” The blonde one stutters too much, trips over words the shorter one wants her to say, and she hasn’t got enough time for this.

 

“She’s in love with you,” she announces, pushing open the door to stand between the pair, grey eyes roving from one woman to the other.

 

“Who the hell are you?” The shorter woman asks, and she laughs a low seductive laugh.

 

“Maleficent,” she answers easily, her name ancient on her tongue to the only person who has asked after it in a century. “And you love the blonde one too—but you’re both so afraid of hurting each other,” Maleficent steps forward, the darkness of her shadow distorting her form for a fraction of a second before returning, “of hurting yourselves, that you can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

 

“I wouldn’t,” the blonde woman warns, a hand on that hideous sword and her eyes burning like coals. They really do love each other so. It’s a shame they will have to die before they get to experience it.

 

“Oh but I would,” Maleficent purrs, her form shifting into the shadowy creature, unable to hold the pleasant facade any longer. The shorter woman screams as Maleficent lunges for her, talon-like fingernails scratching through her t-shirt before the blade of a sword slices through Maleficent’s nails. She screams just as loud as the woman does, clutching at the bleeding darkness that urges her to keep going. Maleficent lunges again, grabbing at the ankle of the dark haired woman, throwing the other back with magic as if she were nothing more than a fly.

 

She almost gets to it, almost manages to reach for the egg shaped gem before the sword goes through her arm, chopping off the limb that dissolves but does not regrow. Wounded, Maleficent screeches as she retreats, flying through the broken window where she will heal before she attacks again.

 

“Regina!” Emma scrambles toward Regina, checking her wounds and trying helplessly to fix something that’s obviously her fault. That had been the thing chasing her back home, and it must have come through the portal that didn’t close in time.

 

“Get away from me!” Regina yells, slapping away Emma’s hands and crawling as far away from her as possible. There had been a reason she hadn’t asked Emma the important questions, and maybe that was because she might have believed everything that was true. The clothes Emma wore was enough evidence if the gold coins and sword attached to her hip wasn’t.

 

“Regina, you’re hurt, I need… you need help.”

 

“And whose fault is that? You brought… you brought that thing here! It recognised you, she recognised you. She said—you heard what she said.”

 

Emma bites her lip to stop it from trembling, because she had heard what Maleficent had said, and she knows at least half of it to be true. Whether Regina feels the same way remains to be seen. “I’m sorry,” Emma says instead, not the: _it’s all true_ , that gets stuck at the back of her throat. “I never wanted anyone to get hurt. I’ll fix it, I promise I’ll fix it.”

 

Regina releases a guttural sound as she tries to move further away from Emma, and Emma has no choice but to leave, running to the Mills house where she tells Henry the important bits, “Regina, hurt, Bakery,” between gasping breaths that sound like the start of a panic attack. The sound of sirens come shortly after, and Emma clutches onto her shirt as she waits for it to pass the house and pick Regina up from the bakery.

 

 

> **vi. Day six.**

 

Everyone is mad at her. Ruby stands in front of her with crossed arms and a closed off expression. Emma doesn’t dare say anything that might aggravate her further, doesn’t dare breathe when the two Henry’s glance over at her like they might not like her after all.

 

“She’s fine,” the doctor says, and Emma makes herself small in the hard plastic chair and doesn’t comment on the weird smell of the brightly lit mansion they call a hospital. She tries not to be relieved when the man wearing an unnecessarily long coat tells them Regina is fine, she also tries to ignore the pang in her chest at the fact that this was her fault in the first place, but Emma’s feelings know no bounds, and they jump around in her pulse until she’s choking back tears behind her hand.

 

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

 

No one says anything, and they ignore her until Regina is discharged and pushed out in a chair with wheels, her leg wrapped in bandages that looks like white clay. They all give her the cold shoulder, but they push her into the carriage without horses and drive her to the place she’s been foolish enough to call home.

 

The silence Emma has gotten used to in the few hours since _the incident_ is promptly broken when everyone sits down in the living room and Emma is standing before them with their eyes on her. She doesn’t apologise again, even if the reflex to do so sits at the back of her throat— do or say anything to have a family want her again, but she refuses to be heartbroken over people she should have known better than to love.

 

“I think it’s best that you leave.” It’s Regina who says this, and Emma snaps her head up to look at her for the first time since the day before.

 

“I can fix this,” Emma tries again, even if she has no idea how.

 

The room falls silent again, and Henry’s eyes which were so alight with wonder now droops in a heaviness that comes from dreams shattered. “I don’t want to be a knight if the people I love get hurt.” He says it softly, as if his words aren’t supposed to contribute to the family meeting, but it stings Emma worse than a wasp would, and she gasps when she steps back in pain.

 

There’s no waiting for any other reasons, and when she goes up the stairs to pack away her things, too much to push into one bag, Emma empties one of the bags of gold onto Henry’s bed and shoves her clothes into that until it’s too full. She manages to secure the sword around her hip, the blade retrieved from the bakery in the early hours of that morning when a walk away from everything that had started out as a witch hunt for Maleficent, turned instead into a brooding exercise that hadn’t helped much.

 

When she stomps down the stairs, Papa Henry with silent protest on his lips but no move to stop her, Emma pauses by Regina one last time, the “I truly am sorry,” easily falling from her lips as she walks out of the place she had called home, away from the people she had made her family.

 

“Emma!” Turning around, her heart beating twice its speed with the possibility of _hope_ , Emma offers a small smile to Ruby who walks up toward her.

 

“Ruby, I—”

 

“Regina said not to forget this.” The egg shaped gem is placed in Emma’s hand, and Ruby shrugs her shoulders in apology before leaving Emma standing on the sidewalk, her heart in her throat and only two bags of gold for company.

 

[][][]

 

“It’s a mistake.”

 

“Because I’m letting a walking gold bag slip from our fingers?” Regina argues.

 

“Because she’s family,” Henry Sr. says calmly, placing a hand on her knee, the cast ending just after the joint.

 

“Would family hide something like this? Would they allow something like this to happen?” Regina gestures to herself, wincing when the stiches along her back pulls at the movement. She’s hurt, in more ways than one, and she hates herself for thinking for a fraction of a moment that Emma could be more than just a stranger seeking shelter, that she could be the one person who might connect with Regina on an entirely different level.

 

Henry takes his daughter’s hand, stroking her palm lightly in a soothing manner Cora used to do to put Regina to sleep. “She saved you from worse, didn’t she? She protected you as best as she could.”

 

“It wasn’t good enough,” Regina spits, lips curling into a sneer that doesn’t hide the shine in her eyes, doesn’t hide the fact that Maleficent—or whatever that shadow thing had been called—had said something about _love_ , had recognised Emma, and attacked Regina. It was scary beyond reason, something unfamiliar; and Regina wants to forget Emma’s confession of the gold coins not being from _this_ world, of a stolen keepsake from somewhere else, an orphan who had been abandoned time and time again looking for a home that gold couldn’t buy. Why must Regina be responsible for all of this? Why must Regina feel pangs of hurt when she thinks about how that monster had thrown Emma through the air?

 

When Henry touches his palm to her cheek, Regina’s sobs come with the hiccupping embarrassment of keeping everything bottled up for too long, spoiling her father’s shirt as she presses against him with the sinking feeling that she might be losing someone precious to the fear of the unknown.

 

 

> **vii. Day seven.**

 

Regina had been smart enough to give Emma a few bills from the gold coins she sold just in case Emma needed any money beyond what the Mills’ were providing for her. Stuck out in the cold and her aching heart leaving her to ponder terrible decisions, Emma had found an establishment that didn’t require identification, and allowed her to stay in a clean enough room for the night at a cost she could afford.

 

Emma needs a plan, and the night she’s supposed to spend sleeping is spent trying to piece together everything about this Maleficent character that she knows. The egg shaped gem is twirled in her hands, the light from within it spectacularly bright despite the dimness of the bedside lamp that illuminates only a small portion of the room. The energy from the stone is enough for Emma to look at it carefully, to think back on the attack and go over every miniscule detail she can remember.

 

“Are you the reason why?” She asks the egg, seeing the glint of it clearly as it peeks out from Regina’s jeans pocket, Maleficent clawing at Regina’s leg to get closer to the gem she didn’t manage to reach.

 

Emma is properly scared after that realisation, and lies on the bed with her sword unsheathed and the egg gem clutched in her spare hand. Maleficent doesn’t come that night, and only when the sun has risen and the threat of a shadow is gone does Emma relax enough to take inventory.

 

She empties out the bags of gold to look for any more gems, but there isn’t any, and Emma wonders if the small pouch that bandit had been after was what they thought held the egg gem. The queen is a clever woman indeed, but she had been stupid enough to believe only one bandit afoot. Amongst her clothing and new shoes, her old clothes lies at the bottom of her knapsack, folded and washed, a small pouch with a sparkling bean still tucked into the belt.

 

Holding the crystal coloured bean up to the light, a plan begins to take form.

 

[][][]

 

Henry is sulky when he comes into the bakery that morning, angry with the world and taking it out on Regina who doesn’t have the energy to do more than offer her little brother a smile. Ruby is sulky too, but in the way grown ups are, with reasoning as to why they shouldn’t be upset, but unable to help feeling it anyways.

 

“She’s ruined him,” Regina says, kneading the dough for the traditional bread that’s been selling well recently.

 

“He would have learned eventually. I think he’s just scared that something had happened to you, and that no one was there to help you.”

 

“Emma was there,” Regina snaps before she can help herself, and she bites her tongue in punishment. She can insult Emma, say things about her that are mean and below the belt, but let anyone else utter a word about the blonde who swept into her life and left behind a storm, well… Regina isn’t so forgiving.

 

Ruby sighs as she decorates small theme cakes, keeping her mouth shut as she shakes her head at her best friend who doesn’t know what she wants. When she sighs for the second time, she doesn’t expect Regina’s exasperated, “ _what?_ ” to come her way.

 

“Nothing.” Ruby quickly denies, writing the _H_ of Happy Birthday on a strawberry tart cake.

 

“It’s not nothing. Spit it out.” Regina has abandoned her task of making the dough, and she leans heavily on the workbench with sticky fingers instead of reaching for the crutches that lean next to her.

 

“You liked Emma, and I know it’s only been a few days, but you were attracted to her, she was attracted to you—even if you just became friends, she was… she was good for you. So what if she didn’t make you believe that she’s not from this world, that she’s really an orphan thief who took all that gold and ran away from her world? So what if this shadow thing followed her and tried to make a mess of everything? That doesn’t change the fact that when you were in need, she was there like a miracle. And maybe you were her miracle too, okay?”

 

Regina’s jaw tenses with the tell tale sign of tears, but Ruby doesn’t go to her, not now when she’s fragile enough to take that crutches and beat Ruby up with it. Later, she thinks, going back to writing the rest of _HAPPY_ , later she’ll hug Regina.

 

[][][]

 

It’s close to sunset when Emma dresses in her old outfit of a fur coat and knee length lace-up boots, cloth pants and shirt that clings to her frame without restricting her movements. She’s going to fix everything tonight, take back everything that doesn’t belong to this world with a magic bean that feels cool in the palm of her hand.

 

She walks to the alleyway by Regina’s bakery with the ease of someone who has been there one too many times, bystanders looking at her odd outfit and cloth knapsacks with raised eyebrows. Yesterday she might’ve tried to stay in the shadows with her unfamiliar clothing, but today she’s on a mission that goes beyond fitting in, today she’s going to make sure her family remains safe.

 

It’s easy to find the shadow creeping along the walls, the sun setting in the distance to plunge the alleyway into darkness. “Maleficent,” Emma greets, and she tries not to gag as the shadow before her morphs into the woman who had proclaimed confessions of love from the mouths of those who had been too cowardly to say it.

 

“Emma Swan,” Maleficent purrs, a fingernail running down her cheek as the woman touches without asking. She hasn’t bothered to wear clothing, and her naked skin gleams just as brightly as that egg shaped gem, a tattoo of a dragon curling and unfurling over her skin as it moves without rhythm or thought. “Do you like it?” Maleficent asks when she catches Emma staring, “I know you do.”

 

This time, when Maleficent reaches for her, Emma slaps her hand away. “I have questions.”

 

“Oh, of course you do,” she drawls, “they all have questions to the answers they already have, but I’ll humour you.”

 

“What do you want?” Emma blurts out, and Maleficent laughs low and hum, her chuckles dragging across Emma’s skin that shivers in response.

 

“Oh you have no idea how to ask questions, do you, little one?” The condescending tone sets Emma’s teeth on edge, but she waits for the answers she needs, side stepping Maleficent’s touchy hands that she’s sure search for the egg shaped gem.

 

“All I want to know is why that gem is so important to you—”

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Maleficent asks, grasping Emma by the chin to bring their gazes together, a light in the bakery flickering to life without either of them noticing. “It’s my _child_ you’re hiding from me.” Emma gasps, stepping back away from the creature in alarm.

 

“But… it’s a stone.”

 

“A dragon egg,” Maleficent clarifies, hunger in her eyes that glow a fiery red. “I’ve gotten old, little one, nothing more than a shadow, but my child will be _glorious_ , and I’ve waited too long to have her back in my arms. Where is she?!” Emma gasps as she flattens herself against the wall, Maleficent’ s patience running out and Emma’s time along with it. She can’t fix this, she can’t hand over the egg with a smile without being swallowed alive by a shadow creature that grows in size.

 

Sending out a prayer, Emma reaches into her bag and pulls out the egg, her sword clattering to the floor with an echoing _clank_ , the shadow charging ahead at full force. “Goodbye world,” she whispers, tossing the last bean against the wall next to her, thinking of the Enchanted Forest and a safe space for dragons before tossing the egg into the portal, Maleficent’s shrill cry following after she dives into the closing circle.

 

There’s a mild burning sensation across Emma’s skin, but she doesn’t have time to dwell on it when the portal is closing and she needs to leave. One bad thing had followed her, and picking up her sword to shove into her belt, Emma thinks that’s enough for now.

 

Walking toward the portal, thinking of the only other place she knows to be home, Emma closes her eyes against this world and reaches forward into the next, her fingertips brushing against the portal just as something hits her back and she stumbles sideways in alarm.

 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?!” Regina yells from the other side of the alleyway, the backdoor of the bakery wide open.

 

“You told me to leave!” Emma shouts back, shoving Regina’s crutches away which is stronger than it looks.

 

“You idiot!” Regina shouts, “don’t you dare leave me, you hear?!” Emma chokes out a cry that gets stuck at the back of her throat, shaking her head in the negative as she pushes herself up to stand, still having every intention of leaving.

 

“You don’t need me,” she says, stepping backwards, “you’ll only get hurt.” The guilt she feels outweighs anything else, and when she swipes at her eyes to rid herself of useless tears, the portal getting smaller and smaller behind her, she doesn’t see it until it literally slaps her across the chest.

 

“I need you, you stupid!” Regina cries, too close to Emma, too quick for her to have limped all the way to the end of the alley without support.

 

“I have to go, just let me go.”

 

Regina’s hands find Emma’s face, bringing their gazes together so that Emma can see the pleading look in Regina’s eyes, something she’s never seen before in the last seven days together. “Stay,” she whispers, resting her forehead against Emma’s, “who else is going to irritate me with this ugly cast on?”

 

When Emma releases a wet chuckle, she brushes Regina’s hair out of her face, unsure as to what to do, only that there’s so much to say, and there’s too little time between them to confess such things.

 

“You are important to me,” Regina tells Emma, “you are my miracle.” And that is enough of the truth for Emma to stand within Regina’s embrace, a question in her eyes that’s answered by the soft press of Regina’s lips against her own. Behind them, the portal closes, plunging the alleyway into darkness before the automatic light of the bakery comes on, illuminating the alleyway in light once more.


	4. Epilogue

 

> **i. One and a half years later**

“I’ve got two blueberry pies, one themed cake, and four donuts!” Emma writes the order down and hands it to Ruby, the brunette permanently behind the scenes now that Emma is in front of the shop serving customers that come in regularly with Regina’s traditional recipes and a few of Emma’s own creations like the lopsided fire cake, drawing in a crowd.

 

They’ve been a family for just over a year now, and Henry’s birthday is close enough that Emma’s already gotten him that book of fairy tales… a few months ago— but he’s still reading them up until this day, and Emma has to answer three dozen questions as to whether the stories are true. Most of them are, but Henry listens intently when she tells him of all the twists that these books don’t mention, of how the genie of the lamp is the queen’s magic mirror, and Hansel and Gretel had gone to fetch the evil queen’s poison apple. His innocence has returned, his belief in the good restored after Regina had told everyone the full story when she brought Emma back.

 

The gold coins that had once brought them together is now a useful asset in pushing Emma’s agenda of a better world for all. After telling Papa Henry and Ruby the whole truth, the good, bad, and the ugly, Emma’s need for a family isn’t prominent anymore, not when she’s welcomed with open arms and given enough love to believe that she belongs. It wasn’t entirely her fault that Maleficent had followed her, or that she had led her to Regina, but in the end, separated by two worlds, they had found each other in times of need.

 

“Get Marian on this order,” Regina says from behind Emma, handing her a slip of paper that Emma reads and then shakily dials the rehearsed number on the landline.

 

“Mills’ Bakery, how can I help you?” Marian says in a heavily accented voice, and Emma makes her voice as deep as it can go when she answers.

 

“I need a sixteenth birthday cake—that lopsided fire cake sponge, vanilla buttercream filling, make it pink and sparkly.” She snickers behind her hand and Marian sighs into the phone as if she’s been through hell and back.

 

“Emma,” She says seriously, “your manly voice needs work, and if Regina wants me to do a theme cake, then she needs to ask me herself.”

 

“Wow, you two are related.”

 

“Shut up,” Marian scolds, laughter in her voice. “Okay, I’m coming in later today, you can give me the orders.” Marian hangs up without saying goodbye, and Emma’s long since used to the Mills’ cousins having quick and to the point calls that leave Emma clutching onto the phone long after the dial tone has rung.

 

“Blueberry pies, themed cake, donuts!” Emma takes the boxed up pastries and puts it in a bag, handing it over to the customer who chuckles at the squeal of delight her daughter makes. This is rewarding, serving customers who become happy with their treats, putting a smile on people’s faces during special occasions, and most importantly, watching as Regina keeps her entire family together under the Mills’ brand once more.

 

After Emma had become a member of the family, she too had been told of its secrets, and the solution was as a family meeting. It took months to get everyone in the same room, but once they were, all of the bakeries barely breaking even, it was time to join forces again, to become one large brand as Xavier Mills had envisioned with the family wholesome and thriving. It also didn’t hurt to invest some of her coin into the businesses, sprucing up the buildings and standardising the look to have a _smart brand_ , as Regina had told her.

 

Family dinners have gone from awkward to loud and filled with laughter, and Papa Henry smiles more than he frowns now, the business bringing in enough revenue for Emma’s coin to be paid back in full and useless in the upkeep of the Mills’ home and bakeries— not when that broken window is fixed and Emma slyly moves into Regina’s room as their kisses become far too heated and have to be moved behind closed doors.

 

“Are you leaving now?” Emma asks Regina when the lunch rush is done, the sun hanging overhead and Emma’s shoulders drooping in exhaustion.

 

“In a minute,” Regina answers, untying her apron and stepping out into the backyard, the once useless space now converted into a little tea garden they host parties in, blissfully empty for the time being.

 

“Do you want to have a look at the community centre with me?” Emma asks, sitting down beside Regina who turns her face up to the sun.

 

“Another one?” Regina asks, absently stroking her fingers across Emma’s wrist.

 

Emma leans her head on Regina’s shoulder, eyes closing as her fingers intertwine with Regina’s to still them. “What am I going to do with all that gold? We’re have more than enough for our family. I just want to help as many other families as I can.” It isn’t like she hasn’t already given away the worth of one bag of gold, community centres in the city receiving anonymous donations with a strict letter of what it is to be spent on, and a very thorough lawyer that accounts for the money so it isn’t slipping into the pockets of those who don’t need it.

 

Kathryn is a beast, and she’s a competitive woman who can outdrink Regina any day, but she’s got a heart of gold and enough sense from the Mills’ gene to see this pet project of Emma’s through.

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Regina says slowly, opening her eyes to rest her head against Emma’s, her shoulders tense.

 

“Thinking about?” Emma probes, but Regina shakes her head and leaves Emma sitting on the bench alone.

 

“Come on, let’s go visit your community centre.” Emma doesn’t ask any more questions, and allows herself to be dragged through town with the novelty of this new world still prominent.

 

 

> **ii. Three years later.**

 

Everything has grown twice its size in only a matter of a few years, and Regina’s business is thriving under the leadership of her cousins and the five brothers working together again. It had been a rocky start, but they’ve gotten down to a smooth working line that grows the business exponentially.

 

Emma’s community project has kicked off enough that the city seems to thrive. Children are coming out of bad situations with the promise of an education, and a Mills’ Bakeries internship in whatever field they want. There’s administration and culinary sectors, law and security, and each of her cousins specialise in things that harness all aspects a business needs. They’re distributing their wealth, earning more than they can keep, and Regina thinks back to the days when she was struggling to make ends meet, and a saviour with blonde hair and green eyes had been feasting on a ridiculous wedding cake with her hands—a blessing in disguise.

 

“No,” she hears, descending the stairs of a mansion they now live in, with enough rooms to house extended family when they come over and a large kitchen that’s witnesses to one too many flour fights and then… well, Regina’s been spread over that kitchen counter with Emma between her thighs enough times to blush.

 

“What do you mean _no?_ ” Emma asks him.

 

“I’m not going— _to_ ,” Henry coughs to hide the break in his voice, his pimply face and strong jawline turning him from a boy into a man, and Emma laughs none too subtly about the mishap that Regina tries to ignore.

 

“What’s happening here?” Regina asks, heels clicking against the wooden floor. Emma’s eyes zero in on her outfit, something slim and elegant, and something with a blazer that speaks of authority outside of the kitchen, something she had once wanted to see Emma in, only to steal that style for herself.

 

“Nothing,” Henry answers too quickly, and Regina’s eyes narrow suspiciously. Is this a discussion about a proposal that’s long overdue? Because Regina has been dropping hints since the year before, and Emma has taken it all with a pinch of salt and not a spark of recognition.

 

“What do you mean, _nothing?_ ” Emma teases. “He has a crush on a girl at school, so I told him to bring her flowers, some chocolates, whatever they tell him to do in those movies you make me watch.”

 

“Chocolates and flowers? My my, Miss Swan, don’t outdo yourself.” And okay, it might be a bit bitter. Emma hasn’t done anything romantic in that sort of sense, even if she does tell Regina how much she _likes_ her and gives her the best orgasms of her life, but that romantic aspect isn’t very prominent between them, and it shows.

 

“Or he could just bake her a lopsided fire cake?” Emma tries, smiling in the way that tells Regina she knows exactly what her girlfriend is thinking.

 

“This isn’t about me anymore, is it?” Henry asks, and Regina rolls her eyes at her brother.

 

“Why don’t you ask Ruby for this sort of thing? She’s better at it than us.”

 

Henry’s blush is all too telling, and Regina throws her hands up in the air. “No,” she tells him, “Ruby is too old for you.”

 

“Age is just a word,” Emma counters with, and Regina releases a long suffering sigh.

 

“I’m just going to leave now,” Henry says quietly, and slips out of the room before either of them can argue for or against him. He’s honestly tired of the way these two behave, one minute hot and the next minute cold—and maybe he still has that crush on Ruby, but he certainly wasn’t asking for Emma’s advice on wooing a girl because he needs it. Sometimes Emma needs to take her own damn advice.

 

“Emma, Henry is too young to be involved in a relationship, this is just—”

 

“Not about Henry,” Emma counters with, and Regina’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion.

 

“I don’t…”

 

“He’s playing us, that little—”

 

“Brother of mine, yes.” Emma’s grin is sheepish when Regina cuts in, but she’s always been bad with expressing her feelings and Regina has always shied away from it unless they’re in danger or there’s a portal that’s closing behind Emma apparently.

 

“Do you remember when we were sitting in the tea garden and you were about to say something?”

 

Regina clears her throat, but nods, words trapped between her teeth as she refuses to say what she wants to.

 

“What were you going to say?” Emma asks, stepping closer to Regina, close enough to take her hand in a delicate hold.

 

Regina licks her lips, gaze darting everywhere but at Emma. Emma squeezes her hand gently, her free hand trailing a light touch down her cheek. They’ve always been so gentle around each other, Emma touching her as if she might break at any second, be pulled away despite the last magic bean being used and no other portals opening up to swallow her away. It’s been three years since that incident, and whilst Emma may eat her food with a little less fear and laugh at stupid jokes as if she’s a Mills, the fear of not belonging still clings to her skin.

 

Regina’s defences drop at the touch, and she brings her hands up to cup Emma’s cheeks with the reverence of having an attraction to a stranger morph into something so meaningful. “I—” Regina has fears of her own too, and so the words stick at the back of her throat and she stokes back Emma’s hair from her face. “Was what she said true?” Regina asks instead, “Maleficent?”

 

Emma closes her eyes against the memory that still haunts her, of Regina’s piercing screams and the shadowy creature lunging at her, but she remembers the words of that beast just as clearly too. There were words of love, of fear, and having everything just out of reach. At the time, maybe Emma had _liked_ Regina, wanted to open herself up to the possibility of something, but now that it’s been years of belonging to a family that wants her for more than gold that isn’t spent on them, Emma knows Maleficent’s words to be true.

 

 “I love you,” she says, the words confident but still whispered in a rasp of a sob. “I love you very much, and I’m also scared of losing you… it’s true.”

 

“Oh Emma,” Regina whispers back, kissing her cheeks, “you never have to worry about losing us. I—I love you just as much, if not more, and I want forever with you, do you understand?” Emma nods against Regina’s palms, laughing into the kiss as she pulls Regina close.

 

And finally, after years of searching, Emma has found a forever home with a portal that brought her somewhere _safe_ , and a family who took a chance on her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Writers and artists spent months creating the fics and art you enjoy - it would mean the world to them if you commented to tell them what you liked! The SQSupernova team is also sponsoring a contest for commenters, and you can find out more [here](http://sqsupernova.tumblr.com/post/177527168129/the-swan-queen-supernova-comments-contest-returns).


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